


On Duty

by thevault



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Police, Corruption, M/M, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Wet Dream, but rhys is here for it tbh, he's also a bad cop lol, jack's a bad husband, some excessive force on jack's part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-01-23 20:23:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21326143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevault/pseuds/thevault
Summary: The static crackling to life on his radio had Jack snapping out of his self-deprecation, his attention turning to Nisha’s unimpressed voice as she called a dispatch over the speakers.  Judging by the day and time Jack already had a good idea of what, or rather who, was being called in.  With a heavy sigh Jack unhooked the remote speaker from the dashboard as he listened, scrubbing a hand over his face in irritation.“We’ve got a call in for a suspicious person on Route 94, suspect is a white male wearing a dark hoodie and a ‘large’ backpack.  Jack, you on duty tonight?  Sounds like your boy.”---Or, the one where Jack, a jaded police officer, struggles to wrangle in Rhys, the entitled, punk-ass rich kid in his neighborhood.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 151





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again. looook i know i now have two ongoing stories but i was just way too excited to start this and i'm really happy with this chapter so!!! please enjoy and don't hate me too much if updates take some time for either one of these fics. i hope you guys enjoy!!

**11:48 PM**   
**Friday**

The night shift was a slow one, twelve hours of darkness and silence that seemed to stretch on forever. Jack worked in a small, affluent town, so even busy days only saw petty crimes and an over abundance of speeding tickets. He couldn’t complain too much, the night shift paid well and that was all he could really ask for. This just wasn’t how Jack had pictured being a cop would be, sitting in his patrol car on an empty street waiting for something to happen. When he was in the academy, he, like everyone else, had the star-studded idea of what being a cop meant. High-speed chases, stand-offs, protecting the greater good, the kind of stuff you saw in _movies_. It was nothing like that, nothing at all.

Maybe somewhere it was, but certainly not here. Ending up where he was? That was his own fault. Jack glanced down into his lap where he anxiously spun the plain gold wedding band around his finger, his face setting into a deep frown. Right, that’s why he was here. Jack had always wanted to work in the city where things _happened_. He’d had a life set for himself, living out of a bachelor pad downtown while he lived the action-filled life he’d always wanted. But life had a way of working out differently, as it were. Getting his then-girlfriend (currently _wife_) knocked up hadn’t been in the plans, nor had the shotgun wedding they held in his grandmother’s back yard. He was easily convinced into moving into a small town, because after all, he was a _family man_ now, and it was just _safer_ here. Now he had a mortgage to pay and a wife and daughter he rarely saw, six years into the force and he already resented it.

The static crackling to life on his radio had Jack snapping out of his self-deprecation, his attention turning to Nisha’s unimpressed voice as she called a dispatch over the speakers. Judging by the day and time Jack already had a good idea of what, or rather _who_, was being called in. With a heavy sigh Jack unhooked the remote speaker from the dashboard as he listened, scrubbing a hand over his face in irritation.

“We’ve got a call in for a suspicious person on Route 94, suspect is a white male wearing a dark hoodie and a ‘large’ backpack. Jack, you on duty tonight? Sounds like your boy.”

Jack sucked in a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to summon the patience to deal with this tonight. It was like clockwork that this punk ass kid decided to cause trouble whenever he was working. For a while Jack was convinced the kid had a crush on him, but he quickly realized Rhys was just a rich kid who didn’t get enough attention at home so he acted out whenever he could, Jack just happened to be stationed in his area. He was a pain in the ass, but Jack kind of felt for him in a way.

“Yeah, ten-four,” Jack grumbled into the receiver as he flicked his headlights on and shifted the car into drive, “en-route now.”

Jack quickly shut his radio off before anyone else who was patrolling that night could chirp him. Rhys was pretty well known around the station, if not for causing trouble then for being a constant thorn in Jack’s side. The kid was harmless, usually getting caught for petty theft, underage purchase of alcohol, things of that nature. Jack hardly brought him into the station though, convinced it wasn’t worth the paperwork when Rhys’ father was mayor and his mother a prominent public figure. He mostly just pulled Rhys away from whatever antics he was involved him and dropped him off at home.

As he rounded the corner onto Route 94 Jack turned his headlights off again, bringing his speed down to a crawl. Not too far down the road Jack could make out a figure in front of one of the billboards for a local business, the spotlight that usually shone on the advertisement blacked out by some kind of dark cloth draped over it. The fabric wasn’t quite thick enough to completely block the light, a soft, foggy glow cast on the figure hard at work. Graffiti, _great_, that was going to be a pain in the ass for someone to clean off.

Jack pulled down the road until he was close enough to pull into the shoulder without raising suspicion, not that he was really worried about Rhys making a run for it. It was very rare that Rhys took off, he mostly just got annoyed that he got caught and then climbed into Jack’s patrol car without much of a fuss. It was just easier this way, Jack told himself, much easier than bringing Rhys back to the station just so he could cuff him to his desk for the half hour it would take for his parents to come pick him up.

With the car in park Jack climbed out slowly, not at all in a rush. The longer this took, the more time was eaten up in his shift. If he was being honest with himself, he enjoyed most of these run-ins with Rhys. He was a sassy little shit that got on his nerves, sure, but he kept his job at least just the slightest bit interesting. Rhys helped pass the time, and his ‘fuck the man’ attitude kind of reminded Jack of himself when he was younger.

Jack’s boots crunched through the tall grass as he made his way over to the billboard, the chemical stench of spray paint assaulting his senses the closer he got. From here he could see Rhys’ profile, a bright blue eye shining in the darkness where it was settled above the bandana wrapped around his nose and mouth. The print on the bandana gave the appearance that the lower half of his face was all bone, the skeletal structure of bare teeth and jaw. _Punkass_, Jack thought with a smirk just as Rhys finally decided to turn and face him.

“Aw, come on, already?” Rhys whined as he lowered his arm from where it had been painting… Tits. Big, round tits etched across the chest of the male doctor pictured on the billboard. Jack gave the younger man a deadpan stare, clearly unamused.

“Is this really how you were planning on spending your Friday night?” Jack muttered as he reached out to yank the bandana down around Rhys’ neck. Underneath, Rhys was grinning at him while he idly shook the canister in his hand, the little metal ball inside rattling around noisily.

“Well, I thought I’d at _least_ be able to get a bunch of dicks in, maybe even some devil horns, but of course you just had to come ruin my fun. I should have known that car that drove by earlier saw me.” Rhys shrugged with one shoulder nonchalantly and pulled the bandana back over his face before he turned back to his masterpiece. He was just finishing up the second nipple when Jack snatched the can out of his hand and dropped it into the open backpack at their feet.

“Don’t you have friends or something?” Jack picked Rhys’ backpack up in the same motion that he pulled his flashlight from his utility belt, clicking it on so he could use it to search the bag. “I’m sick of having to clean up after you.” More cans of spray paint, a bottle of water, and a suspicious baggy of something green. Well, at least he had something to help him sleep when he got home.

“Don’t lie to yourself, Jack. You know you love our nights together.”

Jack glanced up from the bag to find Rhys batting his eyelashes at him, hands clasped together in front of him like some shy southern belle. Rhys cursed and shielded his eyes when Jack pointed the police-grade (AKA _bright_) flashlight in his face.

“First of all, it’s Officer Lawrence to you, we’re not on a first-name bases, kiddo. Second, no.” Jack zipped the bag up and turned his flashlight off, sticking it back into his belt. “Third, you’re not getting this back.”

Rhys pulled the bandana from his face again just so Jack could see the big, dramatic pout on his lips. “After all we’ve been through? You’re so heartless, _Officer Lawrence_.”

Jack ignored the way his body tensed at that and quickly turned on his heel to head back towards his patrol car. Somehow, Rhys always knew just how to get under his skin and it was goddamn infuriating. The sound of Rhys’ much lighter footsteps behind him was sign enough that he was following like a good boy. Jack was just stepping foot on the road when Rhys grabbed him by the back of his uniform, causing him to tense all over.

“Oh shit, wait! Gimme a sec,” Rhys said quickly as he turned and headed back towards the billboard. Jack watched him out of the corner of his eye as he tossed the backpack into his trunk. He turned his full attention to Rhys just as he pulled the black sheet away from the spotlight, casting the bright light onto the billboard once more.

“Ta-da!” Rhys shouted triumphantly as he fanned his arms out towards the work of art like Vanna White presenting a puzzle on the Wheel of Fortune.

Jack snorted as he cocked his hip to the side, leaning it up against the back of his squad car. He started a slow clap as Rhys hopped his way back to the road, rolling his eyes at the excited grin on his face. He had to admit, Rhys was a funny kid, it was no wonder he had a soft spot for him.

“You like it, don’t you? You totally like it.” Rhys did a dramatic stage bow, twirling the sheet around as he did so. “Thank you, you’re too kind.”

“All right, all right, get in the car,” Jack grumbled, taking the sheet from Rhys so he could toss it into the back seat. Both men clambered into their respective sides of the car like they had dozens of times before, and Jack slapped at Rhys’ knee when he tried to kick his feet up onto the dashboard.

“I think we’re on the verge of a modern renaissance here,” Rhys said in a mock-serious tone as he stared out the window at his work while Jack whipped the car into a U-turn. “Truly ahead of its time, wouldn’t you agree?”

“What’s with the British accent?” Jack asked as he glanced at Rhys out of the corner of his eye, trying to keep the smile off his face.

“Don’t you know accents just _exude_ sophistication?” Rhys wheezed when Jack slapped him on the chest, turning quickly to punch him on the arm in retaliation.

“Oh, so you want to add assaulting an officer to tonights rap sheet, princess?”

“Like you’d actually ever charge me,” Rhys scoffed as he leaned back in his seat, hands folded behind his head.

Jack’s jaw twitched at the comment, lips pursing together tight. Even if Rhys was right it still ticked Jack off when he rubbed it in his face. It wasn’t like he didn’t deserve it, the last time he’d brought Rhys into the station was well over a year ago, back when Rhys first marched into his life waving his metaphorical anarchy flag. But just because he _hadn’t_ didn’t mean he _couldn’t_.

“So…,” Rhys said, dragging out the ‘o’ for a few beats, “how’s the wife?”

Rhys always tried keeping small talk, tried to pry into Jack’s personal life as if they were friends. It was annoying, if he was being honest. Sure, Jack probably saw Rhys more often than anyone else involved in his life, but that didn’t make them _friends_. Jack couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes, his hand gripping the steering wheel a little tighter in frustration. He didn’t bother warranting the question with a response, jaw set tight as he kept his eyes on the road.

Jack could feel Rhys staring at him from the passenger’s seat, his gaze taunting, making his skin crawl. It was always like this, a silent struggle for dominance over the situation. Sometimes Jack wondered what would happen if he gave in, if he gave Rhys just half an inch, would he make it a mile? Probably, the spoiled fucking brat. Jack never let his curiosity get too far, he knew better than that, but it was hard to admit to himself how much Rhys’ confidence sent heat straight through him whenever he did throw the kid a bone.

There was some sick part of him that relished in it, giving up just the slightest bit of power to this entitled little shit. Rhys was like a fun game that pulled him from reality for a few nights a week, a change up from his monotonous life. So maybe he let his eyes drift over to meet Rhys’ gaze, let himself stare just a little too long at the way the younger man’s lips quirked up into a cocky smirk before returning back to the road ahead.

“I’m likin’ the stubble,” Rhys broke the silence again, tone light and playful. Jack swore he could feel Rhys’ gaze against his skin, like soft breath along the line of his jaw. “It kinda makes you look older, but I’m diggin’ it.”

They were almost to Rhys’ house, he just needed to keep it together for a few more minutes. It was impressive how quickly Rhys made him want to lose his temper, not that he was a particularly patient guy or anything. All Jack wanted to do was slam on the breaks so hard that Rhys smacked his head on the dashboard. He wanted to grab him by his shirt and choke him with his stupid bandana so he could tell him to just _shut the fuck up_. But he was the adult here and he needed to act like it.

When Jack glanced over at Rhys he was looking at the road now, his eyes intent with something that Jack wasn’t too sure he liked. He looked eager, like he was a ball of energy ready to burst. It sent a thrill up Jack’s spine, and when he looked back towards the road he had to jerk the steering wheel hard so he didn’t drift too far into the shoulder.

“How fast can this thing go, anyway?” Rhys asked, leaning closer to the dashboard.

“What?” Jack spat, even though he knew exactly what Rhys was asking.

“Come on, show me how fast you can go, Officer Lawrence,” Rhys’ tone was darker now, suggestive in a way that already had Jack slowly pressing on the gas harder.

Speed was his weakness, that adrenaline-junkie thrill of going _fast_ keeping him on edge. He could never say no to an opportunity to really push the speedometer to its limits, the needle slowly cranking up, up as they caught onto a straight stretch of road. This was wrong. Fuck, forget about wrong, it was _illegal_, but he was a cop so who the fuck was going to tell him what was illegal and not?

“You think you can handle what’s under the hood, kiddo?” It was unnerving how quickly he could flip a switch, and each time he did he knew Rhys was closer to understanding what made him tick. He could feel the blood rushing in his ears like a good high as his lips curled into a wolfish grin. Rhys’ excitement was practically vibrating off of him, or maybe that was just the engine revving.

“I can handle _anything_.”

Oh yeah, that did it for him. Jack pressed the pedal as far into the floor as he could, the dark scenery around them whizzing by in an uncontrollable blur. Rhys was laughing beside him as they zipped down the road, and if Jack wasn’t so caught up in the moment he definitely would have been pissed when Rhys flicked on the emergency lights. How the hell did he even know where that switch was, anyway?

“Holy shit, does that say one-thirty?!” Rhys exclaimed, leaning over the mounted computer so he could see the speedometer better.

“Oh, fuck.” Suddenly, the turn for Rhys’ road was approaching much sooner than Jack had anticipated, but that was mostly due to, y’know, the whole speeding thing. Jack rook his foot off the gas to instead slam on the breaks, tires skidding as he whipped the squad car into a sharp turn that had Rhys tumbling over the center console and face-first into his crotch. The force with which Rhys was flung into his lap had Jack grunting in pain just as Rhys’ hand slammed down hard on the horn to help steady himself. The sound was deafening alongside the screech of tires, echoing through nighttime silence.

“Get the _fuck_ off of me!” Jack shouted as he pulled one hand off the steering wheel so he could slap it across Rhys’ face and shove him off hard enough that his head thunked against the passenger side window.

“Motherfucker!” Rhys exclaimed, hunching forward in pain while gripping at the back of his head with both hands.

After what seemed like an eternity the car finally stopped moving, coming to a halt almost completely horizontal across the road. The silence that followed almost felt just as loud as the commotion beforehand. Both men were panting, open-mouthed and erratic, and the ringing in Jack’s ears was so loud it hurt. He glanced around the blue-red scenery surrounding them, and it wasn’t until he saw the lights in a nearby house come to life that he realized he should probably turn his own off. He quickly flipped the switch and everything turned back to normal except for the adrenaline-fueled beat of his heart.

“Hey, you all right?” Jack asked, glancing down at the crumpled heap in his passenger’s seat. Rhys gave a whimpering nod and a weak thumbs-up from behind his head, which was good enough for Jack to try and forget that ever happened and continue on their way.

Jack could still feel the throbbing in his veins as he pulled his car onto the appropriate side of the road and his hands held the slightest tremor as he gripped the steering wheel. Two silent blocks later and they were pulled out in front of Rhys’ sprawling family mansion where perfectly manicured shrubbery met them across the sidewalk.

“I think I might have a concussion,” Rhys groaned while blinking away tears. Jack tensed at the notion as all kinds of legal jargon and paperwork flashed before his eyes.

“Oh sweet Jesus, tell me you’re kidding,” the silence that met him was nerve wracking enough that Jack reached across the seat to grab Rhys’ head, forcing him to crane his neck back at an awkward angle. Jack ignored his complaining in favor of pulling his flashlight free again, using his thumb to pull open Rhys’ eye none too gently.

“Hey, asshole, that’s my face!” Rhys tried to squint against the bright light that was beamed into his eyeball but the taut pull Jack had on his eyelid prevented such. Jack watched as Rhys’ pupils dilated in wake of the light, then moved to the next eye. With a relieved sigh he shut the flashlight off and holstered it again.

“You’re fine, quit complaining.” Jack ignored the incredulous glare that Rhys directed at him and hit the unlock button on his door. “Go home, Rhys.”

For a moment, Rhys sat there staring at him like he was expecting something else. Come to think of it, he’d been doing that a lot lately, watching Jack all wide-eyed and curious like some cartoon woodland creature from one of Angel’s stupid princess movies. It had Jack quirking an eyebrow at him and waving his hands in a ‘get lost’ gesture rather unceremoniously. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like a blush was creeping up the younger man’s neck, resting high on his cheeks. Without another word Rhys scrambled out of the car, practically tripping over his own feet on the way.

Merely out of courtesy, Jack watched Rhys walk up the long stone path through his front lawn until he made it inside. He waited for the familiar window on the second floor to glow with light before he started down the road again, keeping his speed to a crawl as he finally turned his radio back on. Bringing the receiver to his lips, Jack took a deep, steadying breath before he spoke.

“Seven-one-one available for assignment,” Jack murmured into the receiver, swallowing around the dryness in his throat.

“There he is!” Wilhelm’s voice clambered through the radio, making Jack’s eye twitch from how hard it rolled. He hooked the receiver back onto the radio when Nisha decided to chime in, the two chirping him over the airwaves. He couldn’t wait for this night to be over.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finds himself wanting things he shouldn't want, which leads to some regrettable decisions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! Thank you all for your wonderful comments and kudos as always! Sorry this update took so long (and that it's a little short) I've been super busy lately and when I do have time I've been lacking inspiration. I hope you enjoy this chapter and hopefully I can get my muse back!!

**Saturday**   
**10:22 AM**

“Honey, I’m home,” Jack called monotonously into the empty house before him.

Jack wasn’t expecting anyone to be home, nobody ever was when he got back from a night shift. Even though it was Saturday his wife usually found something for her and Angel to do under the guise that she wanted to let Jack get some rest. Jack was convinced she just didn’t want to be in the house with him, which was also fine, he didn’t really feel like dealing with her either. Maybe that was just the bitterness talking, always assuming the worst, but he wasn’t feeling sympathetic enough to look into it that much.

His feet dragged as he trudged up the stairs, exhaustion creeping over him like a warm blanket. This was his favorite part of the day, unwinding before a nice, long nap with no one to bother him. He started unbuttoning the top to his uniform on the way to the bathroom, tugging it out of where it was tucked into his pants in a practiced motion. By the time he was in the bathroom and had the shower on he was naked, hardly giving the water enough time to warm up before he was stepping in.

“Ohh fuck yeah,” Jack groaned, voice echoing around him. He let the spray rain down on his face for a few long minutes before he turned and let it rush down his back, groaning again as the knots in his back started to loosen. Idly, he scratched at the stubble on his cheek, eyes unfocused as he stared at the grout between two tiles.

Peace and serenity were short-lived, unfortunately, but such was life in his world. His fingers slowed to a stop as he remembered Rhys’ words, that taunting smile on his lips… Jack tried to blink the memory away, or rather, the parts of the memory he _chose_ to remember. What was it about this kid? He always seemed to linger in Jack’s mind, always digging under his skin even when Jack was alone. He couldn’t get him off his mind for _hours_ after he’d dropped him off at home. Jack had told himself it was the thrill he was remembering, driving fast down a deserted road without a care in the world. He knew that wasn’t it though, knew that _Rhys_ was what he was thinking about, the tension between them that Jack knew was brewing but he tried to ignore.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut tight, but that only seemed to make things more vivid. Rhys’ cocky little smirk was etched into his brain, those soft, pink lips teasing him, stretching around his… Jack’s eyes snapped open in surprise and he sucked in a tight breath through his nose. This wasn’t the first time Jack had let himself fall a little too far into a fantasy, not by a long shot, but it still shocked him every time. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it, since when was he into shit-talking twinks ten years younger than him? Since now, apparently, judging by the frequency with which he’d started to have these thoughts.

He tried to will the deep ache in his gut away, and he especially tried to ignore that the more he wanted it to go away, the stronger the feeling got. He was just tired, he wasn’t thinking straight, and it didn’t help that he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d touched his wife. Anything seemed appealing with this dry spell he was on, that was all. He was just starved for attention, no matter how pathetic that made him feel, and Rhys just happened to be giving it to him.

The rest of his routine was quick, not trusting himself to let his hands linger anywhere too long. There was a moment where his fingertips brushed the stubble on his chin, and for that moment he considered keeping it. In the same breath he turned to the mirror hanging in his shower and made quick work of the facial hair there, shaving it down smooth. Within minutes he was clean, dry, and slipping into the ridiculously expensive king size bed his wife had made him buy. (He wasn’t complaining, he loved the fuckin’ thing, but it was _expensive_.) He was out as soon as his head hit the pillow, not even caring that his hair was still damp and soaking into the pillow.

—-

_Teeth, he could feel teeth on his neck, nipping and biting everywhere they touched. It had him craning his neck, arching up into the sensation, a sensation that was growing, expanding into more. A weight in his lap, hands on his chest. He was breathing heavy, and whoever was on top of him was too, soft and sensual in his ear. For some reason he couldn’t move, completely powerless to whoever was above him, unable to touch or feel. He felt like he was going crazy, pulling at restraints he couldn't see._

_Wait, he couldn’t see anything. Was he blindfolded? He tried blinking a few times, only getting blurry edges and muted colors, like he was seeing through a veil. The teeth on his neck became lips on his own, smooth and warm. He kissed back as hard as he could, only to have his phantom lover inch away each time he pressed for more. ‘Tease,’ he thought, arching his hips up for a dirty grind._

_”Rhys,” the name escaped his lips without him even realizing it, mouth hung open on a moan as the person, **Rhys**, continued to grind down onto him fluidly. It was practiced, like he knew what he was doing, getting Jack all worked up through his uniform._

_”Why’d you shave?” It was whispered in his ear, tickling the sensitive skin there, the pout on his lips practically audible. “Is it because I liked it?”_

_Jack groaned and bucked his hips, the wet slapping sound of skin on skin surrounding them. But hadn’t he just been wearing clothes? Everything was just so **blurry**, he couldn’t really tell what was happening, at least, not in detail. But the details didn’t matter, not when everything felt so **good**. There were hands in his hair now, pulling, exposing him. It only made him moan for more, his body shuddering under the forceful grip. He just wished he could **touch**._

_”Daddy,” Rhys moaned in his ear, hot and wanting. That alone almost had Jack tumbling over the edge, his mind only coherent enough to groan back in response._

_”Daddy…”_

_”Daddy!”_

—-

“Daddy, we’re home!”

Jack jerked awake, covered in sweat and tangled in the sheets. He glanced around his room stupidly, forgetting where he was for a moment only for reality to sink back in. The time on his alarm clock might as well have said, ‘you slept in, moron,’ the glowing red numbers taunting him.

“I-I’ll be right down, Angel!” He shouted back, detangling himself from the sheets only to find he was nowhere near decent, what with his sweatpants tenting like they were. Without dwelling on his dream, Jack dug the heel of his palm into the persistent problem in his pants, cursing softly under his breath. Instead, he opted to change, pulling on a pair of jeans so he could discreetly tuck away his problem (like every other problem in his life) and pulled on a t-shirt.

“Heya, pumpkin!” Jack called as he came down the stairs. Angel was bounding around the corner just as he reached the last step, happy and giggling as she jumped up into her father’s arms.

“You overslept,” his wife called from the kitchen, clearly displeased. He ignored her in favor of his daughter, showering the little girl with kisses.

“Guess what me and mommy did today!” Jack hooked her onto one hip and headed into the kitchen.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” Jack hardly gave his wife a glance when he entered and made his way over to the fridge for a water bottle.

“We went to the farmer’s market! And then we went to the mall and mommy let me get this really cool toy and I got lots of new clothes for school! We didn’t get you anything though, sorry daddy…”

“Ahh, that’s all right, daddy doesn’t need anything.” The face that was waiting for him when he turned around from the fridge wasn’t exactly unexpected, but it was certainly unwelcoming. Judging by the tap of her heel and her crossed arms, he must have had to do something today.

“The bags are in the car,” her voice was clipped, like her time was being wasted speaking to him.

“I’m guessing that’s my responsibility?” Jack tried not to get tense in these situations, he really did, for Angel’s sake. It was just _so damn hard_ when he lived with a goddamn succubus.

“It’d be nice if you did something around here, yes.”

“I’ll help!”

What would he ever do without his little Angel?

—-

**Sunday**   
**1:37 AM**

A knock on his driver’s side window had Jack nearly jumping out of his skin, heart pounding in his chest. He shouldn’t have been so surprised to see the face waiting on the other side, all smug and confident as usual. To be fair Jack _was_ parked only a few blocks from his house, though that was merely for preventative measures. He’d had a shit day at home, he didn’t want to have to deal with Rhys’ bullshit. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem like an option.

With an unamused stare Jack jabbed the button to roll his window down. Once it finally settled into place Rhys leaned in, arms folded and propped against the opening. Jack was hyper-aware of the way Rhys’ elbow was just barely brushing his bicep, his skin cool where it rested just below the hem of his sleeve. It felt deliberate, like Rhys _wanted_ to be touching him, but that was not a thought Jack wanted to dwell on.

“Aw, come on,” Rhys muttered, face set in a deep frown, “why’d you shave?”

Jack sucked in a breath so quickly he nearly choked on it as a wave of arousal tingled through his body from his head to his toes. That goddamn dream, _fuck_, he’d almost managed to forget about it. It was like he could feel it all again, the pressure in his lap, Rhys’ lips on him… Oh fuck, he was staring at Rhys’ lips now, all pouty and plump and—

“Yeah, so what?” Jack spat, nudging Rhys’ elbow with his arm so he’d lean away. He didn’t, of course, and he actually seemed to lean closer, getting into Jack’s personal space even more.

“It’s because I said I liked it, isn’t it? You’re such an ass.” Rhys rolled his eyes. Jack’s teeth clicked with how hard he clenched his jaw, tension tightening his neck and coiling down his spine. Was the universe laughing at him right now? Throwing all of this in his face like shoving a dog’s nose in its own piss. He was snapped from his thoughts when he felt a cold hand on his cheek, just the slightest brush of fingertips along his jaw.

“So smooth,” Rhys murmured just before Jack returned to his senses, jerking his head away angrily.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The aggravation in his voice was clear as day, but somehow Rhys seemed so… _Unfazed_. Had he really let Rhys feel that comfortable around him?

“Jeez, someone’s grumpy— ow!” Rhys exclaimed when Jack forced his door open right into the younger man’s knee. Rhys took a few steps back and bent down to rub the sore spot, giving Jack plenty of room to get out of the squad car. “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem? _You’re_ my fuckin’ problem, kiddo,” Jack slammed the door shut behind him loud enough that the sound echoed down the street and made Rhys jump in surprise.

“Are you serious right now?” Rhys asked incredulously, straightening himself up to meet Jack’s gaze nose-to-nose. Sometimes Jack forgot just how tall this kid was. “Maybe you shouldn’t be parked so damn close to my house like some kind of stalker if you don’t want to be bothered with me. You’re acting like a fucking prick, Jack.”

In one swift motion Jack grabbed Rhys by the front of his shirt and lifted him up until he was struggling to stay on his tip-toes, both of his hands wrapping tight around Jack’s wrist. He felt unhinged, unable to control his anger and keep himself in check. Maybe he _did_ need to go back to therapy…

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that? Are you _trying_ to piss me off? Because it’s fuckin’ working. I know you think you can get away with anything but what you’re not remembering is that I _am_ a cop, and if I wanted to, I could throw your ass in the back of my car and create a whole lot of problems for you.”

He was lashing out, Jack _knew_ he was lashing out, but he couldn’t stop. All the tension from the dream he’d had, from his wife hounding him all day, it was all bursting right now and Rhys was suffering the brunt of it. Jack could see the look in his eyes, that he was actually _scared_, and that only seemed to make his anger worse. He didn’t want to scare the poor kid, not like this… Maybe scare him a little so he gets his shit together, sure, but Rhys looked like he was scared that Jack was going to… To _hurt_ him. That realization had Jack letting go of his shirt, and even that he did with too much force, accidentally shoving Rhys to the ground. He tried to catch himself, hands scraping on stray chunks of asphalt.

“I didn’t even do anything!” Rhys shouted as he scrambled to his feet, brushing his hands off onto his jeans. “You’re fuckin’ crazy, man. This is excessive force, if anyone should be worried it’s _you_.”

Jack jabbed a finger into Rhys’ chest, speaking through gritted teeth, “don’t fucking threaten me, kiddo.”

“Stop calling me kiddo!” Rhys smacked Jack’s hand away with a loud slap.

“Then grow the hell up!” Jack’s voice echoed through the empty street, loud and filled with rage. Once the last of his voice carried on into nothingness all they were left with was silence, the muggy night air suffocating him. There were a few moments where Rhys stared at him like a skittish animal, wide-eyed and nervous. Jack didn’t blame him, but that didn’t make him any less angry.

Without another word Rhys turned on his heel and headed back down the street the same way he’d come from. Jack watched in silence as guilt wedged itself into his gut like a sharp knife, making sure Rhys turned down the right street before he slunk back into his car. He let his head fall into his hands as he took a few deep, steadying breaths until his erratic heartbeat calmed. It was like he was waking up from a dream again, the way sound slowly faded back into existence, the familiar sound of Nisha’s voice coming through the radio.

“Seven-one-one do you copy?”

Jack stared at the radio long enough for Nisha to speak up again, though this time he snatched up the receiver before she could finish. “Ten-four, what’s up, Nish’?”

“Where the hell were you? We’ve got a disturbance on Helm, sounds like a bunch of drunk idiots got into a fight. Think you can handle that, big guy?”

With a heavy sigh Jack confirmed that he was on his way to the scene and started down the road. He needed a distraction, from Rhys, from his wife, from everything. Jack crept past Rhys’ house on his way, relieved to see the familiar light glowing on the second floor; at least he didn’t have to worry about that problem tonight. Still, Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d done something wrong, even if he _was_ right, Rhys needed to grow up. This couldn’t keep going on forever, it wasn’t his job to be Rhys’ keeper. So why did he feel the need to always be there? Why did he look forward to the nights he had to hunt Rhys down and teach him a lesson? And why was he so disappointed when Rhys decided to spend the night in?

Jack hated this feeling, like he was _addicted_. Rhys had this energy about him that was just so… _Exciting_, and it was pulling Jack in head-first down the rabbit hole. He felt like he went through this cycle every week, craving more only to beat himself up about it like a film reel that got jammed on the same scene, playing over and over. It was his own fault, he knew that. He could try switching back to day shifts, or even patrol somewhere far enough away that he made Rhys someone else’s problem. The sick part was he didn’t _want_ to do that, he enjoyed this game of cat and mouse far too much to give it up. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Rhys had him wrapped around his finger and the little fucker knew it, too.

It was only a matter of time before all of this blew up in his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Jack thinks Rhys has finally learned his lesson, things get out of control.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyy! Sorry for the long break between updates, I've been busy with work/having some writers block but I think it finally cleared up! Thank you again to everyone who leaves comments/kudos! They mean everything to me (even though I know it takes me a while to get back to everybody, sorry!!)
> 
> P.S. shoutout to Ivan (@chapionofdogs)!! He helped me with fleshing this fic out via DMs as always, we've always got some rhack idea cooking :)

**Thursday**   
**3:12 AM**

Two weeks, nearly two weeks Jack had gone without another incident from Rhys. It was peaceful, quiet, and admittedly, _boring_. Jack found the nights were dragging on longer than ever, time ticking by one aching minute at a time. Each day progressed on worse than the last, and before Jack knew it he had this _itch_ in his bones, like something was building up inside him before it was going to burst. He knew he shouldn’t feel this way, like his nights were ruined because Rhys _didn’t_ show up, knew that the brat would only piss him off if he came around, but some sick, fucked up part of him craved that tension. Rhys was his outlet, his break from the insufferable white noise that was his life.

He didn’t blame the kid for staying away, Jack hadn’t exactly handled what were ultimately his own issues appropriately that night. It was just hard not to, Rhys was like the treat he couldn’t have; can’t have your cake and eat it too, right? But _god_ did Jack want to, he wanted to sink his teeth in and _bite_.

Jack shook his head to clear his mind, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. He needed to stop, _now_, before it was too late. Rhys was untouchable, too young, too _wrong_. It was for the best that the kid was staying out of trouble, for Rhys’ sake and Jack’s. Irritably, Jack rubbed a hand over his face, his returning stubble scraping across the palm of his hand, prickling his fingertips uncomfortably. This time to himself was necessary, no matter how much it made him squirm. With any luck, Rhys learned his lesson and decided to make the right choices for himself.

“Seven-one-one, do you copy?”

The break in silence was welcomed, Nisha’s voice never sounding more pleasant to his ears. He needed a distraction, preferably one that would get his blood pumping. He snatched the receiver from where it hung on the dashboard with a little bit of clambering, big fingers curling around the piece of plastic with ease. He could already feel the adrenaline pumping through him, fingers jittery where they squeezed the button to speak.

“Seven-one-one, copy. Whadda ya got for me, Nish’?” Jack’s leg bounced excitedly, like he was going to get more than a complaint about a dog barking. Why was he so convinced something was actually happening? Nothing ever happened in this town.

“We’ve got some kids smashing mailboxes in the village, you close by?”

Jackpot.

“Close enough, sugar. Seven-one-one en-route.” Jack snapped the receiver back into its clasp and jerked his squad car into drive, lights blaring with the flick of a wrist.

Jack took off down the road with gusto, speeding towards the scene of the crime. The paperwork was going to be a nightmare, but destruction of federal property was a felony, baby. Whoever these sorry ass punks were, they were in for a rude awakening. Jack’s foot was like lead on the gas pedal, much like that night he’d let Rhys see just what he could do behind the wheel. It didn’t take him long to hunt down the shiny red pickup truck once he came across a few destroyed mailboxes, hot on their tail.

The back of the truck held five miscreants, all hooting and hollering excitedly. Well, they were, until the red and blue lights glittered off of the side mirrors of the truck, all of their heads snapping back like whiplash. One of them leaned over the side of the bed and slapped the side of it, seemingly encouraging the driver to go faster.

“Bad choice, kiddos,” Jack muttered as he increased his speed only half a second short of them, reaching to kick on his sirens.

Jack swerved as the evidence was discharged from the truck, the bat whizzing by his car at a dangerous speed. He cursed under his breath and pushed on the gas pedal until his foot hit the floor, easily gaining on the heavy diesel engine in front of him. They were coming up on the edge of the forest that surrounded the village, Jack’s muscles tense and ready to jerk in accordance to whatever turn the band of hell-raisers decided to dupe him with. The turn never came, the truck skidding to a stop in the grass, kicking up big chunks of dirt as whoever was driving nearly lost control. Jack slammed on his own breaks, whipping the steering wheel around in an attempt to slow down faster so he didn’t hit the other vehicle.

In the moments where both vehicles were slowing to a stop, close enough for Jack to make out faces, he recognized him. Rhys, in the back of the pickup, shit-eating grin plastered on his face like he _knew_ this was all going to happen, like it was in his plan. Blue and brown eyes stared right into his own, taunting him, inciting him to chase. Jack felt his blood boil, hot and angry in his veins, fingers gripping the steering wheel so tight that the veins in his wrists bulged with fury. Honestly, he should have known that Rhys was behind this, he was _always_ behind these things, and he looked so goddamn _proud_.

Stunted by the speed of his car, Jack was stuck waiting for his tires to slow enough that he could justify jumping from his vehicle, giving precious seconds of time to the merry band of idiots before him. They all started to pour out, jumping from the drunk bed, ejecting themselves from the front seats before they took off into the forest. Rhys was the last to jump free, his feet hitting the ground running just as Jack swung his door open and jumped out, just barely giving himself enough time to put it in park.

“Hey!” Jack barked, voice loud and booming. Rhys glanced back at the sound, long legs carrying him effortlessly as he winked over his shoulder at the police officer. Jack growled low in his throat as he took off after him, boots pounding against the ground with loud thuds.

Jack knew he was doing the wrong thing, chasing the wrong person. He should have been chasing the driver, should have been taking their license plate number, should have been calling a 10-96* over his radio. But nope, Jack was chasing after Rhys, hot on his heels in a fit of rage. He wanted to pin him, shake answers out of him and shove his face in the dirt like he deserved. Two weeks of nothing, only to come back like this? There were a lot of things Jack could think of that Rhys deserved.

Rhys’ legs might have been long, his thin frame fast, but Jack was _faster_. He was a trained professional, strong legs carrying him at twice the pace Rhys had picked up. He might not have hit the gym as often as he’d used to, the academy long behind him, but he was still good at this. A sick sense of pride coursed through him as he neared the younger man, the brisk night air cooling the sweat beading at his temples. He was so close, just a few more strides away, the thick scent of Rhys’ cologne hitting his nostrils at such a close proximity.

Jack stepped down on his left foot, then his right, springing forward on the last step. His chest collided with Rhys’ back like a bull on parade, knocking both of them to the ground viciously. Rhys’ front skidded across the grass enough that his tank top was definitely stained, Jack’s weight knocking the breath out of him. There was a slight squabble as Rhys tried to wiggle free, arms reaching forward as he pulled at the grass for purchase. All he got was fistfuls of earth, caking thick under his fingernails. Jack quickly shifted above him, all of his weight distributing to Rhys’ hips, strong hands reaching forward to grab pale wrists mercilessly.

“Are you fuckin’ stupid or something?” Jack barked as he wrenched Rhys’ arms behind his back, pinning them together easily with one hand while the other fumbled around his belt for handcuffs. “Here I’d thought you’d gotten your shit together—,” Jack paused, grunting as Rhys tried to kick his legs around, “learned your fuckin’ _lesson_.” Jack leaned down close to Rhys’ ear, his larger frame easily covering Rhys’ thin stature. “Guess I should have known better,” he growled, low and menacing as he snapped the cuffs in place with a metal _’click’_. Rhys stopped struggling then, head turning to one side so Jack could see his profile, the one with the blue eye.

Rhys peered back at him as best he could from his position, full slips curving into that same taunting grin as he’d had in the back of the pickup truck. Laughter started to bubble up from his chest, light and airy like Jack had just told him a joke, not tackled him to the ground and bound him like a wild animal.

“What’s so _goddamn_ funny?” Jack hissed through clenched teeth, still hunched over Rhys’ prone form. Rhys took his sweet time answering, letting his laughter simmer down before he even thought about warranting the question with a response.

“What’s so funny?” Rhys repeated, curling his wrists in a way that didn’t have the metal biting into his skin so harshly. “_You’re_ what’s so funny, Jack. Pfft, oops, _sorry, Officer Lawrence._”

Rhys’ breath caught on a pained whine as one of Jack’s big hands came down on his head, curling into soft, brown locks and _pulling_. Jack had his head pulled back, neck craning almost painfully from the strain. This was illegal, this was so fucking _illegal_, manhandling a perp like this, but Jack just couldn’t stop himself. Rhys knew just what to do, just what to say to get him seeing _red_.

“Do you think this is a game, princess? Because I’ll tell you right now, it’s _not_. This isn’t like your stupid graffiti, or buying beer with a fake ID. Destruction of federal property is a _felony_. You know what felony means, pumpkin? It means _prison_,” Jack’s words were seething, hot like a brand against Rhys’ skin. Jack could just see the corner of Rhys’ parted lips at this angle, twitching with a smile again.

“You and I _both_ know you wouldn’t send me to prison, _officer_.” Rhys was taunting him, _still_, each word dripping with intent. Jack pulled harder at his hair, squeezed tight in a way that made Rhys’ back arch. Jack just barely caught the way his eyes fluttered closed, parted lips letting out a sound that was something akin to a moan.

Jack let go of Rhys’ hair as if he’d been burned, yanking his hand away with a startled grunt. The sudden release of support had Rhys’ head hitting the dirt none too gently, though all that escaped him was a breathless chuckle. There was a beat of silence between them as Jack assessed the situation, convincing himself that he must have heard wrong, that Rhys must have been moaning in _pain_—

His thoughts were taken from him as Rhys canted his hips up against Jack’s crotch, grinding shamelessly against the older man. Jack was quick to react, sucking in a sharp breath as he lifted his hips away from the gyrating boy beneath him. Rhys was chuckling again, like some demented version of himself in one of Jack’s worst nightmares. What the hell was going on? How had he lost control of this situation so quickly?

“What are you doing?” Jack spat, pressing Rhys’ wrists harder into his lower back, the metal biting into soft skin where his tank top had ridden up.

“You’re getting off on this, aren’t you, officer?” Rhys practically purred, eyes alight with a fire that Jack knew all too well.

Jack tried to ignore the way the front of his uniform felt just a little too tight, a little too hot. The more he tried to ignore it, the tighter they felt, his face hot with embarrassment. This wasn’t happening, there was no fucking way this was happening. Rhys was not about to get the upper hand, Jack couldn’t let him win. He needed to scare Rhys away, scare this _desire_ away before he got himself in trouble.

Jack was on his feet in an instant, yanking Rhys up with him by the handcuffs that were binding him. It was easy to ignore the way the younger man whined in displeasure, his wrists no doubt aching and rubbed raw. Rhys stumbled over his feet as Jack dragged him through the woods without another word, jaw clenched tight, deep breaths puffing through his nose. Jack could feel Rhys staring at him as they walked, catching glimpses of him out of the corner of his eye, the look on his soft features nothing short of indignant.

The silence stretched on even as they approached Jack’s squad car, flashing lights casting eerie shadows across the tree line. The truck was gone, no doubt picked up by one of the ones that got away while Jack was distracted. Rhys kicked at a chunk of dirt on the way, catching Jack’s attention just enough to get him to look, pale skin nearly fluorescent in the bright flicker of the red and blue lights. His tank top was stained on the front as expected, the abstract graphic muddled by dirt and grass. Either his pants had fallen down or his shirt had ridden up just enough for a defined hip bone to peek through, the soft skin scraped and red from the fall. Jack feels a pang of guilt for a fleeting moment, wants to brush away the dirt from the wound.

The ride back to the station was quiet, Rhys in the back seat of Jack’s car for the first time in a long time. The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife, weighing heavily on their shoulders. Occasionally, Jack would glance back at Rhys, though nothing changed. He was popped up against the door with his head resting against the window, eyebrows knitted tight, lips pulled in an angry pout. With each glance Jack noted something new, like the scrape on his shoulder, the dirt on his neck. _Excessive force_ rang between Jack’s ears over and over.

Jack was gentler as he pulled Rhys from the back seat once they reached the station, cupping a hand over the back of his head so he didn’t hit it on the door frame, guiding him, rather than pulling him, by his elbow. The gesture didn’t seem to go unnoticed, Rhys’ pout softening just a fraction.

They were greeted by Meg at the front desk, and to say the look on her face was surprised would have been an understatement. She openly gawked, mouth agape like a fish out of water. Jack only gave her a curt nod as he proceeded past the lobby, through the door that led to the desk jockeys. Thankfully the night shift was practically devoid of people, all the other officers working the graveyard shift patrolling rather than sitting at their desks. There were a few souls in the room, such as Nisha on dispatch, though none of them even bothered to look up as the pair sauntered into the room.

Jack undid one of Rhys’ handcuffs as they neared his desk, the younger man sighing in relief as he was freed from the uncomfortable position. He pulled one of the chairs in front of Wilhelm’s desk over to his own and sat Rhys down in it, attaching the freed handcuff to a metal loop on the top of his desk. Rhys stared at where he was connected to the desk, bewildered, and shook his arm curiously. The loud clang of metal seemed to be enough to catch the rest of the room’s interest, eyes peering at them, asking unspoken questions.

“So… You’re not gonna lock me up?” Rhys quipped, a playful lilt to his voice again.

Jack pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat down on the opposite side of the desk, a headache starting to pulse to life at the base of his skull. “Keep talking and I will, kiddo.”

Rhys snapped his mouth shut and puckered his lips out, eyes wandering around the mostly vacant room. Jack wasn’t exactly sure how long he was planning on keeping the kid there, nor did he really know _why_ he had him there. He just… felt like he needed to do _something_ to the kid, and he wasn’t actually about to start up a report on the incident.

The soft murmur of Nisha’s voice across the room prickled at the back of his neck, making him fidget nervously. Nisha wasn’t a quiet person, she was quite the opposite actually, so to hear her speaking in such hushed tones had Jack on-edge. He knew she was talking about him, probably to Wilhelm, dishing the dirty gossip that Jack had _Rhys, in the station, yes right now!_ Jack focused a hard glare over his shoulder at her, though that hardly deterred the woman from continuing her conversation. All he received in return was a knowing look, though he wasn’t quite sure _what_ she knew.

Jack turned back towards Rhys when he heard fingers drumming on his desk, glare still affixed to his features. Rhys halted the drumming pattern and quickly pulled his hands into his lap— or rather, yanked on the chain of his handcuffs with his bound wrist while his free hand sat nervously on his knee. Jack quirked an eyebrow at the younger man before looking down at the absolute nothingness on his desk, absentmindedly scratching at the stubble on his cheek.

“So, you don’t have to like, keep that clean-shaven all the time?” Rhys asked, once again breaking the silence. Jack’s eyes snapped up without moving his head, the look on his face stern. Rhys shrunk back into his chair at the look, jangling the handcuffs as he fidgeted around nervously. “I mean, y’know, because you’re a cop and all…”

Jack closed his eyes and expelled a deep breath from his nose, trying to ease the tension from his shoulders. It didn’t work. “You say one more word to me and I will start drafting up paperwork right now.”

Thankfully, the silence continued after that; at least, the outward silence did, Jack’s internal conflict was a whole other story. The pair sat in silence with only the minor interruption of Rhys shuffling around to get more comfortable every once in a while. At one point, Rhys folded his arms over Jack’s desk to lay his head on, and Jack was pretty sure he knocked out for a good half hour or so. Nisha sauntered over around 5 AM to engage in some meaningless chatter as if she hadn’t talked shit right to Jack’s back earlier. Rhys tried to butt in, only to receive mirroring scowls from the police officers.

It was around 6 AM that Jack finally called Rhys’ parents to inform them that he had their son at the station. They didn’t ask too many questions, just thanked Jack for watching over their son, _again_, and let him know that someone would be there to pick him up immediately. Neither of Rhys’ parents showed, just some guy in a fancy car that Jack had seen driving Rhys’ father— or mother?— around town a few times. And just like that Rhys was gone, walking out of the station like he’d never even been there. Jack watched him go with keen eyes, a sinking feeling in his gut telling him that this wasn’t over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *10-96: Out of vehicle-ped. send backup

**Author's Note:**

> comments are strongly encouraged and appreciated!! thank you for reading :)
> 
> if ya wanna talk find me on twitter! @dopplegangbangs


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